


For Better (Or For Worse)

by antebunny



Series: Hela Odinsdottir [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Hela (Marvel), BAMF Women, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family History, Family Issues, Fluff, Gen, Highly Functioning Sociopath, Massive Cankled Unicorns, OP Character, Odin's A+ Parenting, REASERCH, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, There are some background relationships, Unreliable Narrator, but it's mostly gen, sorry I really needed that to be a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antebunny/pseuds/antebunny
Summary: It's been five centuries since Hela decided to stay for her family. During that time, she's watched in the shadows of Odin's golden palace as Loki and Thor laughed and played with wooden swords, watched Loki's delight when green fire filled his palms, watched him race off to the library, watched them admire the valkyrie (who Hela is one hundred percent cooler than, yes she is), and never once spoken to them. (When they could understand her).She's going to be a great older sister, just you wait and see.What do you mean she has to talk to them?





	1. Sister

**Author's Note:**

> This work is basically a collection of scenes from Loki's and Thor's childhood. It begins right after All They Ever Did, about three centuries later. So Thor is around eight years old, and Loki is seven .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Loki woke up, the dragon was mere inches from his face.
> 
> Loki paused at Thor's door. Thor would never tell, that he still ran to his big brother in the middle of the night because he was scared of nightmares. But he might let something slip. And if he was sent back to the nursery, well, that would be unbearable. 
> 
> He doesn't know his older sister.  
> But he'd like to.

The dragon was mere inches from Loki when he woke up.

His eyes flew open, staring at the dark ceiling of his chambers. His breaths were loud. The night was dark and silent. His blankets made a soft rustling noise as he turned over. His eyes strained futilely at the dark; it swallowed up everything. His dresser, his books, his carpet, everything to the end of the bed. Everything was normal. But the dragon had been _right there,_ roaring jets of flame, and Thor had been screaming–

He shouldn’t have read the recounting of the Hel dragon. But he’d been trying to prove to Thor that books could be interesting, even more interesting than play acting with invisible swords.

There had been illustrations.

Loki could still feel the phantom flame on his face. If he closed his eyes, a great big pair of reptilian orange eyes blinked at him. His breath came out faster. Sweaty palms twisted his blankets.  

“ _Thor?”_ Loki whispered.

Nothing.

“Mother?”

Silence. What had he expected?

“Father? O-Odin?”

The darkness swallowed his words.

In one swift motion, Loki threw off his blankets and slid out of bed. His bare feet curled on the soft carpet floor. He ran his fingers over his dresser until he felt his green robe. He pulled it on and hugged it tightly. Loki opened the door slowly. No matter which way he looked, the dragon was always waiting in the darkness of the other direction. A giant black snout, exhaling puffs of smoke. Meter-long claws scratching at the stone floors. Loki clung to the wall, hurriedly placing each foot in front of the other.

The entire corridor was solely for the royal chambers. Odin and Frigga’s was at the end of the corridor, with a door leading out to Frigga’s private gardens. Next was Loki’s: he had moved in two weeks ago, from the nursery. Thor has been gloating about his own chambers for decades, and Loki had rushed to get his own. He’d pestered Frigga about it for weeks, and now he had them. But they were empty. Big, but empty. Loki could fit five of him in his bed just width wise; he’d rolled over six times before falling off the bed.

And maybe they were just a little scary when he woke up from a nightmare and there was nobody there, not even a nursemaid.

Loki paused at Thor’s door. His original intention had been to slip into Thor’s bed. Thor would never turn him away. He might tease him about it in the morning, but only to him. Thor would never tell that Loki still ran to his big brother in the middle of the night because he was scared of nightmares. But he might let something slip. And if he was sent back to the nursery, well, _that_ would be unbearable. His hand fell off the doorknob. Loki continued moving forwards, his slender fingers running along the smooth stone walls. He stopped at another door frame.

Hela’s door, as always, was open. Loki wavered for another moment.  _She's my sister,_ Loki thought.  _I won't disturb her._ But she's scary and I don't know her, and she might  _laugh_ at me. But she's  _awesome_ scary–

 

_-Its breath came out faster as it crept down the corridor, claws clacking quietly on the flagstones. A long, forked tongue flickered out, almost touching the figure who was standing still, back turned, by the open doorway–_

 

Just a dream, just a dream. Although it could be a prophetic dream–nope, not going there. Loki turned around determinedly, back to the door, because he wasn’t afraid of a dark corridor-

And the dragon was there, meter long white teeth gleaming in the dark, saliva dripping to the floor. It crept around the corner, and Loki felt tremors in the floor with every step, and he couldn’t help it, he whimpered, it looked so real-

-The dragon roared, and it was no phantom roar in Loki’s head, and he could feel the cool stone wall, so it was no dream-

_“Hela!”_ Loki screamed, and ran inside his sister’s rooms without a second thought.

 

The truth was that Hela was a ridiculously light sleeper, and she didn’t know why, but it was certainly useful.

Which was why Hela was stirred into semi consciousness when something issued tremors across the stone floor of the corridor. A trained assassin like Natasha Romanov (or the Winter Soldier, except he didn’t get to sleep), would have taken one of two options: gotten out of bed as quickly as possible  and retrieved the nearest weapon, or kept their breathing pattern the same, so it looked like they hadn’t woken up at all. Hela took the second option, because she really couldn’t care less. _Ugh,_ went her brain. _Who is it,_ and _why do I care,_ and the answer was _I don’t really care,_ and _I really don’t,_ so her body couldn’t be bothered to move.

But her eyes flew wide open when Loki screamed her name.

When she’d made that decision, centuries ago, that she wanted to know first Thor and then Loki, she hadn’t realized how _hard_ it was. She had _no idea_ how to talk to people, much less little people. Most people just agreed with whatever they said, patiently corrected them (Odin), or cooed at them (Frigga). And she couldn’t see herself listening to any of the _idiotic_ things they said without wanting to stab somebody. Like “I wanna be a valkyrie!” (Thor) and “but why can’t I be a valkyrie?” (also Thor) and “how come all valkyrie women?” (because Bor didn’t want women in his army, you idiot, but back then they were just the chosen riders of the winged horses, and then Astrid Flæmingrsdottir proved him wrong).

Oh yeah. Still Thor.

It had been easier, if frustrating, when they couldn’t talk, but of course they couldn’t remember any of it now.

So she’d watched them. Watched as Thor fell over when he swung his imaginary sword too hard, when Frigga introduced Loki to sorcery, his delight as he watched the green flame in his palm for the first time. She’d watched as they played in the gardens, in the fields, by the horses they weren’t big enough to ride. But she’s never known what to _say._ How do you talk to little people? Hela had spent so long compiling a list of what she _couldn’t_ say- at least, not until they were older- that she’d never considered what she would say. It all seemed so contradictory. Thor was very interested in warriors and battles- but Hela couldn’t tell them about ones she had started or ended, because that was _too much._ Most people were extremely uncomfortable if she told them stories about things she had done. ( _Atrocities,_ they said, because nobody ever thought she was listening.  _War,_ she said, but nobody ever listened to her). Siblings usually grew up with each other, Hela knew, but with a place as large as the royal palace and all the _differences_ between them, and the fact that Hela had long stopped coming to family dinners, they just really didn’t seem to see each other. She was sure Odin had a hand in it–she just couldn’t _prove_ it.

But now here he was. Screaming her name in the middle of the night. Sorry, _what?_

In one fluid motion, Hela was standing in front of her bed in her battle armour, green cape materializing in front of her. She heard a dragon roar, and then Loki stumbled into her room, green eyes wide with fear.

The dragon was right behind him.

Its mouth framed the entire door. The two top fangs jutted down from the top of the door frame like a really gruesome Halloween decoration. Its eyes were glowing orange embers set behind either side of the door. Its skin was not the ash gray of Muspelheim fire dragons, but as black as Hela’s necroblades.

What Hela noticed was the flickering flame building inside of the dragon’s mouth, as it readied to blast both of them into cinder. She didn’t hesitate to fling one arm around her little brother, covering him with her cape and bodily hauling him behind her. Her other hand drew back and a three meter long blade materialized, which she flung directly at the center of the flame in the dragon’s mouth, between its teeth–

-Which flashed green, and then the dragon disappeared.

Hela blinked, and then realized exactly why. The scales of a Hel dragon, supposedly, were black, unlike real dragons Hela had seen. Only it was impossible for a Hel dragon to be _here,_ in Asgard, because if they were a Hel dragon, that meant they were from Hel, which meant that they were _dead._ Which meant that:

  1. Loki had been practicing illusions in the middle of the night, gone a bit far, and had gotten scared, or
  2. Loki had had a nightmare, and when he woke up, he’d accidentally made his nightmare into an illusion, and gotten scared.



See, she was thinking before jumping to conclusions. Odin would be proud.

(Not that she cared).

Number two seemed more likely, but was did she know? About seidr or nightmares? Hela was pretty sure she didn’t have any seidr of her own, not that she’d ever bothered to see. And she never had nightmares that she could remember–

“– _You are unworthy of your family,” Odin said, face set in stone. “Unworthy of your power, unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed—”_

No, that didn’t count–

_“I cast you out!” Odin roared, raising Gungnir, and for all Odin’s faults, he’d never raised a hand against her._

_Until now._

_“You are banished from Asgard–from the Nine Realms–from any place where you might do harm–!”_

Hela attacked the image viciously. That was _not_ a nightmare. In order to be a nightmare, she had to be scared of it, and she was _not_ scared.

“S–sister,” Loki stuttered, glancing from the doorway where the dragon had been, to his older sister, whose cape he clung to. “I–I didn’t mean to-”

“I should’ve known it was an illusion,” Hela muttered, which was probably as close as she got to ‘it’s okay.’ “Hel dragons don’t exist–even if they did, they couldn’t be here.”

(Although in another universe, Hela was not conversing with her little brother, but battling a Hel dragon in Hel, thanking the Norns her necroblades still worked, wondering if Odin would even noticed if she died, even though she knew the answer was no–he’d sent her there, hadn’t he? To quite literally the land of the unworthy dead. Where everyone might be dead, but they could still feel pain, and she had to convince each and every one of them that the pain wasn’t worth bothering Hela, who had sent so many of them there herself. Even though, if she died, she might not go anywhere at all; she was already in Hel-)

“S–sorry for,” Loki swallowed, “disturbing you-”

“Was that your illusion?” Hela interrupted.

“Um, yes, I think so. I d-didn’t mean to, I had a nightmare-” Loki shut his mouth and looked mortified.

“Did you know you could do that?” Hela asked, interested.

“I-d-d-n-no!” Loki stuttered, and began crying. “Mother says my _seidr_ is a lot more powerful than hers; she’s been tutoring me, she said this was possible, but not for centuries, and it seemed so _real-!”_

Hela shrugged. “Then get a tutor. Mother was a shieldmaiden, not a seidkona.”

Loki continued crying into her cape.

What was she supposed to do _now?_ This was why she had avoided Loki and Thor. She had no idea what to say! How was she supposed to comfort him? She didn’t want to make it worse–she wasn’t supposed to, she didn’t think.

Ugh. She’d rather face another dragon.

Besides, her cape was getting wet.

“Nightmares are nothing to be afraid of,” she tried.

“I kn-kn- _know!”_ Loki bawled. “I’m sorry! Don’t tell Mother and Father, _please–”_

“Alright,” she agreed quickly, and he stopped bawling, but continued sobbing.

Progress?

“It could have been a prophetic dream,” Hela offered.  She meant that he might not be scared over something that was just a dream, but for some reason he didn’t look comforted at all.

“Or…it could not have been,” Hela said swifty. “But…if it is, I’ll kill it.”

Loki stilled. “You r-really will? You can?”

“Brother, I’ve never met a creature I couldn’t defeat,” Hela said dryly. She went to close her door and ended up dragging Loki along with her, because he refused to release his grip on her cape. He didn’t seem to mind. “Here-” she reached for the doorknob and closed the door with a quiet _click._ “Come on.” She dragged Loki back over to the bed, her armour exchanging for bedclothes.

He exchanged her cape for her arm.

Hela rolled her eyes, but smiled slightly at the same time. She lifted her arm up, and he simply rose in the air, knees draw to his chest, and didn’t let go until she dropped him on the bed. She climbed on after him, unsure of what to say.

“Come on brother, go back to sleep,” she said, nudging him.

He mumbled something incoherent and continued shivering.

“I’ll protect you,” she promised, because he seemed to like the ‘I shall slay the dragon!’ method.

(And it wasn’t a lie).

She pulled the blankets over both of them. Her heartbeat had already returned to normal, but his was still beating nearly twice as fast, and his breaths came in fast and unsteady.

Hela decided she had nothing else to say, turned over, and fell asleep.

Loki lay curled on his side, eyes wide open, staring at the utter darkness. Not a sound stirred from Thor’s chambers, or from his parents.

Or from Hela, except for her light breathing. Who was only several inches away from him, but seemed impossibly far.

He couldn’t possibly fall asleep again. Not with the dragon, lurking in the corners of his mind every time he tried to close his eyes.

 Then he remembered a different story.

 

-OoOoO-

 

“I shall be the first warrior to slay a dragon!” Thor declared. The two brothers had been prancing around one of the courtyards. Loki could no longer remember why, but he remembered what followed. 

Someone snorted. “Already too late for that, Your Highness.”

Thor turned, lowering his invisible sword. “Who are you?”

A valkyrie, Loki deduced immediately. Even without her sword or steed, a valkyrie’s white armour was distinctive throughout the Nine Realms.

“Ragnhildr Øivindsdottir,” she said, confirming Loki’s little theory. ‘Hildr,’ which meant battle, (more or less), was only used by the valkyrie.

“Who?” Thor demanded. “Has slain a dragon single-handedly?”

“Most recently?” The valkyrie asked rhetorically, lifting a practice sword from a rack that Thor and Loki were not supposed to have touched. “Your sister.”

“Hela?” Thor echoed. Their sister was a rather distant figure. Thor thought that maybe it was because of the age difference–Thor and Loki were two centuries apart, whereas the age difference between Thor and Hela was at least a millennia. Nobody seemed to know when Hela had been born, Frigga thought the question was rude, and they hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Odin. All they really knew about her was that she was the greatest warrior in the Nine Realms, her colors were green and black, neither of which were royal colors, she hated having other people in her rooms but always left the door open, she actively avoided Odin and was exasperated by Frigga. None of which made sense.

They had never seen her fight, for one. They couldn’t figure out why she avoided Odin, or why she always seemed annoyed by Frigga. Or why gold wasn’t one of her colors–after all, only the five of them could use it. Or why she left her door open if she hated people in her rooms so much.

Thor thought she didn’t like them very much. He was a bit miffed by it– _everybody_ liked Thor–but she wasn’t really around to show her rare Thor-dislike, so Thor wasn’t really bothered.

Except. Loki had seen her lurking around in the shadows a lot of the time, when it was just the two of them. When Thor and Loki snuck out to Frigga’s private gardens when Odin was in a council meeting or something, he’d seen her green cape, or just a hint of her black hair. Thor–clueless, oblivious Thor–hadn’t noticed, and Loki never told him. Maybe it was selfish, but it was nice to think there was something out there that was only for him.

“Only got one, last time I checked,” the valkyrie said casually, running a practiced finger down the length of the blade. “It was back when your father was still sending a guard with her–before either of you were born.” She slid the length of the sword down her hand guard and seemed disappointed when the blade didn’t cut it. “We were on Muspelheim. The fire demons enlisted the help of a fire dragon. Turns out they can be surprisingly sneaky, if they want to be, and it did.”

Ragnhildr shrugged. “Figured if anything could take out two valkyrie and the princess of Asgard while they were sleeping, that would be it. Next morning, the dragon was lying on the ground with one of her blades through its neck. She’d gone back to sleep, and we’d never even woken up.” The valkyrie abruptly rammed the sword directly down on the flagstones so hard that it shattered. Thor and Loki jumped back a good two feet, startled. “Pathetic,” she muttered, kicking one piece with her white armour boot. Privately, Loki wondered if the valkyrie ever wore anything besides her armour. He wondered if maybe it was because nobody took them seriously otherwise.

(That was also when Thor decided he wanted to be a valkyrie. That dream didn't last very long).

“We never figured out how she killed it. Your father stopped sending guards out with her after that, I think. I’ve always slept lightly since.” She winked at them, tossed the broken piece of the hilt behind her, and walked away.

 

-oOoOo-

 

Loki snuggled in closer to his sister.

She was warm, despite how cold she could act to other people. Like everyone else. He didn’t want to bother her, but he _really_ didn’t want to leave. And he was still scared- he didn’t know he could create an illusion nearly as complex as a dragon, much less accidentally.

The truth was, Hela was a ridiculously light sleeper. She was stirred into semi consciousness by his slight movement. Bouncing on the bed would have done it. Consciously, she thought _ugh, go to sleep, you annoying little…ugh nouns._ Semi consciously, she turned around and pulled his head in closer. Loki froze, but her eyes never opened.

 _Just gimme a hug already, you insufferable little brat,_ she thought, and then _wait what why do I want a hug,_ and then Hela woke up and saw what she was doing. Loki’s eyes, still wide open, caught hers. He offered her a tiny little smile.

Hela had chosen siblings, for better or for worse. She might as well live with it. Hela sighed and started stroking his hair.

 

- _And we’d never even woken up-_

 

Loki closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When Loki woke up, he saw his sister staring down at him. “Had a good night of sleep, brother?”

“M-morning,” he managed, and was proud, because he was quite sure he’d never had a conversation with her before. Besides last night.

(Well, he had, but it was one-sided, seeing as he couldn’t talk yet).

“Are you alright?” Hela asked, because that’s what Sigrid and Isa asked each other after they’d gotten hurt.

Loki nodded mutely, so she wasn’t sure it was the right response. Hela stretched like a cat–no, like a great feline predator–and was suddenly wearing her battle armour. She pulled herself out of bed slowly.

He looked down at his own bedclothes, and the green robe he’d never taken off, and wondered if she went anywhere without it. Loki slipped out of the blankets and landed on the floor lightly, balancing on the front of his feet.

“Breakfast?” Loki asked, with a tentative little smile on his face.

And Hela almost said _why in the Norns would I eat breakfast, much less with Odin-_

But Loki was smiling at her hopefully, at this elder sister he didn’t know but wanted to, ready to be refused, or sneered at-

“Sure,” Hela said, shrugging.

Everyone was surprised to see her, and not always in a good way, and the servants had prepared a meal for four, although Thor and Loki competed to see who could share more food with her until Odin’s stern gaze made them stop, so she barely ate anyway.

It was both amusing and heartbreaking, to watch them offer up portions of their own breakfast like little offers of kinship and sibling hood. And Loki, who had so clearly asked because he wanted to show Thor ‘look, I have a big sister, and she’s awesome,’ had spent most of the meal focused on her instead. As if he’d forgotten about impressing Thor, who didn’t even question why she’d shown up. Hela barely talked, although Thor and Loki hounded her with endless questions, especially Thor, about the battles she’d fought. But anything she said in front of her parents could be used against her for Norns knew what Odin would come up with, and she was too tired to censure her words, so saying nothing was easier–

But she’d agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun coming up with valkyrie names, you don't even understand. They are all real old Norse names, though. Feedback is greatly appreciated (like is that last paragraph excessive? I think it might be excessive). The dragons are just images of the dragon from Thor: Ragnarok. I don't claim credit for them. :)


	2. Tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki needs a tutor. Hela endeavors to find him one, because no one else will. 
> 
> Things really (really) do not go as planned.

For Better (Or For Worse)

* * *

 

Chapter Two: Tutor

 

“Hela,” Loki whimpered, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You need a tutor, don’t you?” Hela asked rhetorically. “Else you’ll continue waking me up in the middle of the night because you can’t control your own _seidr.”_

Loki looked away guiltily despite the fact that it had been almost two weeks since he’d had the nightmare about the Hel dragon. All in all, he hadn’t known his sister very long, but in Hela’s opinion he acted like he knew her far better than he did. If he really knew her, he would stop looking up to her. She wasn’t a model figure anyone, much less Loki, should want to emulate.

And yet he still clung to the ends of her cape as she made her way up the steps of the winding tower. There was no one around for hundreds of kilometers, just the vast plains of Vanaheim. The tower rose like a sore thumb over the windswept fields; towering white marble that twisted its way up towards the sky, strange runes etched on every block of stone. A narrow staircase, also of white marble, wound its way around the tower all the way to the top, where there presumably was a door to get inside. A narrow arch of the same white marble but covered with brightly colored stones connected the winding tower to a short, circular building of large gray stones with a dark purple smoke rising from the roof.

The symbol of the Bifröst was imprinted right in front of the tower, where Hela and Loki had landed. But except for that mark, and the purple smoke, you wouldn’t know that somebody lived there. The marble was spotless, to be sure, but those sort of spells were fairly commonplace and there was no telling how long it had been since someone has last lived there.

“And Mother can’t be your tutor anymore,” Hela continued. “You said so yourself.”

“I could find books in the library and study them,” Loki mumbled. “Father will never allow me to have a tutor. He thinks _seidr_ is a waste of time. He says a proper prince should be a warrior.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hela said. “Odin uses _seidr_ all the time. He certainly uses more complex magic than Mother.” Loki didn’t miss how she addressed them as Odin and Mother, but he didn’t say anything. “And the librarians won’t let you into the restricted section, which I’m sure is where most of the interesting books are.” Not that she would know; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d picked up a book.

“But–” Loki began, and then struggled to find a flaw in her logic. “But he’s the All-Father.”

Hela shrugged. “True,” she admitted, “but we can’t all be bash-and-whackers.”

“But,” Loki began again, “even if Father _did_ allow me to have a tutor, you can’t just drop in unannounced on the greatest _seidr_ -wielder in all of the Nine Realms!” His voice was a wail by the end of his sentence.

“Is he?” Hela asked idly. “I knew he was the most powerful _seidmadr,_ but is he really more powerful than all of the _seidkona_?”

Loki paused to let out a huff; unlike Hela, climbing all the winding stairs made him out of breath. “Perhaps the most famous, then. I certainly have heard of no particularly powerful _seidkona_.”

Hela raised an eyebrow. “Really? The queen of this very realm is one of the most powerful völva. _”_

“Queen Freyja?”

“Well, yes. Our dear aunt took every opportunity to remind us during Æsir-Vanir war, much to Odin’s dismay.”

“Wait, we have an aunt? We fought a with the _Vanir?”_

Hela stopped on the staircase; they were about halfway up and Loki needed to catch his breath. He hadn’t run out of questions in the two weeks he had known Hela (nor had Thor, for that matter), and while Hela didn’t find them annoying (maybe stupid), she hated waiting. But Loki insisted on asking questions even as he was struggling to keep up with her.

“Well of course we have an aunt; Mother had a family before she became Odin’s war-bride, you know. And yes, we fought a war with the Vanir; twice in fact. By the Norns, don’t your tutors teach you anything?”

“What’s a war-bride? What do you mean, Mother was a war-bride?”

Sweet Norns, he really didn’t run out of questions, didn’t he? “During the first Æsir-Vanir war that was fought between Bor and Njord–you do know who Bor is, right?”

“Yes,” Loki muttered, looking a tad bit insulted. “ _And_ Njord. Bor was our grandfather, Njord was the king of Vanaheim.”

Hela rolled her eyes. “Yes, very good, little brother. During the first war they declared a truce, since neither could gain the upper hand–for very long, at least–and decided to exchange hostages. Frigga, their princess, was married to Odin. We gave them Mimir, our greatest _seidr_ -wielder, and Hoenir, and they gave us Frey, their greatest warrior. Of course, once Njord died heirless, Odin waged war against them again and this time, he won.” There was no point in mentioning it was because Hela had been his general. “He installed Frey as a puppet king, but then Frey married Freyja, Njord’s only other child, so he’s more or less the real king of Vanaheim now.”

Odin took his role as protector of the Nine Realms very seriously now, but of course Vanaheim still paid taxes to Asgard–how else would he have paid for his golden city? Although in Hela’s opinion, Vanaheim’s capital (sorry, not capital–main city) was far more splendid than the so-called ‘golden city’, with its sprawling gardens and ancient stone buildings hanging over the side of waterfalls and cliffs, open air pavilions and giant fountains. Of course, Vanaheim was basically the realm of _seidr_ (mainly because Alfheim was full of stuck-up elves, and Vanaheim had more than double their population anyway), and _seidr_ -wielders tended to make life more enjoyable.

Loki slid down the wall of the tower until he was sitting on the steps. “And we were supposed to have seen him,” he muttered. Most Æsir and Vanir considered themselves friends now, but as royals of Asgard, they were supposed to have announced their presence in Vanaheim to Frey and Freyja. Hela had absolutely no interest in doing so, which was why they were going up the tower unannounced.

“We can get away with it,” Hela said. Loki didn’t look that convinced.

 Bor had held a special hatred for Vanaheim’s shieldmaidens–probably because Asgard didn’t have its own, or because all shieldmaidens declared celibacy, and to Bor that essentially made them a waste of a person. So disbanding them was basically the only thing he accomplished in the first war. Asgard hadn’t had the Valkyrie, who trained so intensely they were better warriors than could be found in most of the Realms. But she was sure should they fail, Odin would disband them–which was of course why the trained so intensely, so that they wouldn’t fail. So of course, having the Vanir shieldmaiden princess marry his son (once she was in Asgard, of course–if Bor had announced his intention to make her marry while she was still in Vanaheim she would have never come) was a great insult to the Vanir. So they really shouldn’t have been surprised when the Vanir killed Hoenir, right after Hela was born.

Despite all of that, Mimir was basically left alone. Hela suspected that it was because while there were many magic-wielding Vanir, there were only a few who used _seidr,_ so as a magical people they greatly respected Mimir for his _seidr._

“During the second war, Mimir refused to fight for either side,” Hela continued. “I think he likes Vanaheim better than Asgard, but wasn’t willing to fight his old friends–and frankly, nobody could force him to do anything. Mother didn’t fight, I believe, perhaps out of conflict of interest, but our dear aunt Freyja did, and yes, she is a powerful völva.” She proved as much to Hela on the battlefield, while screaming at Hela the whole time about how she dared to be a warrior when her very existence was a disgrace to female warriors everywhere. She didn’t go as far as to credit Hela for the destruction of the shieldmaidens, but she certainly believed that Hela ruined her sister’s name, legacy, maidenhood, etc.

That was how Hela had learned that Frigga had been a war-bride in the first place. Her tutors weren’t going to tell the spear-happy heir of Asgard that her mother was a war-bride. But her aunt, out for revenge in her sister’s name? (She’d certainly wiped out a few legions). She had no qualms. It was almost sad. Hela thought that she and her aunt might have gotten along better in different circumstances. But honestly, Hela thought that Freyja was overreacting–in any case, it had been over two millennia (right? Probably). It had been a long time ago.

Loki’s eyes looked a little glazed. He carefully swung his legs so they dangled over the side, and look over the vast fields of Vanaheim, as if contemplating the fact that his aunt was somewhere out there. Hela wasn’t sure where he got the caution from–certainly not Thor. “Why didn’t I know any of that?” Loki asked, almost petulantly.

Hela shrugged, although he couldn’t see her. “Ask your tutors.”

Loki looked down at his lap. “Thor and I snuck out of class again, and our tutor got really upset. He agreed not to tell Father if we didn’t interrupt his class ever again.”

“Well then don’t ask your tutor,” Hela said easily. “Can we go now?” She gestured vaguely upwards to the top of the tower. “Mimir waits.” After all these centuries, Mimir had stayed in Vanaheim, and now he was still here, in the winding white tower that stretched to the sky.

He stood up shakily. “Ah, yes. Mimir the Wise. The greatest mage of the Nine Realms. That Mimir.”

“Precisely,” Hela said, still rather pleased that she was holding a conversation with her younger brother. “Now do hurry up; we’ve been moving far too slowly.”

The two fell silent right about the last quarter of the staircase. Loki kept glancing down and the fields below and steadying himself on the tower wall, which in turn slowed their progress down. Finally Hela got fed up and slung him over her shoulder, and while he panicked about falling, she marched up the last stretch of stairs and set him down right in front of the door.

Which was, apparently, not a door. The black wood, which had stood out against the white marble from their viewpoint two hundred feet below, was in fact black paint. There was even a fake knocker painted in the center. Mimir had created two hundred feet of staircase just to paint a fake door on the wall.

Slowly, Loki turned around and looked up. He caught one glimpse of his sister’s furious face before she leaned back, a necroblade materializing one hand, and flung it in the center of the fake door. “ _Son of a bilgesnipe!”_ Hela screamed, and Loki cringed.

Marble dust and cracked paint dribbled to the staircase from the cracks. Loki took one look at them falling of the edge and backed up away from the fake door. “Hela,” he said, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t believe it!” Hela shrieked, launching a series of smaller blades into the sape spot. There was very little that her blades wouldn’t pierce, and the fact that this marble wall was just cracking made her even madder. “I came all this way, and it was _all for nothing?_ I swear by the Norns Mimir–” thud “will–” thud “pay!”

Loki flinched and inched his way back around the wall. He had never seen his sister furious before, and it scared him. He remembered his sister fearlessly flinging a necroblade into the mouth of what she thought was a Hel dragon about to breathe fire, and realized he should have expected that she would have the audacity to called Mimir the Wise the son of a bilgesnipe, and attempt to break down his door. Wall. “Sister,” he begged, “please, let’s go.” It also worried him that the wall wasn’t breaking down, but his sister’s abrupt change to furious scared him even more. Yes, they had walked up two hundred feet of stairs only to find out that they had been tricked, but Loki hadn’t known how easily insults could set her off.

Instead, Hela raked a three meter long blade down the wall.

Loki felt a trembling sensation within him, and realised that his _seidr_ was acting up. His eyes widened. That meant that– “Hela, NO!”

He had meant to say that because the wall wasn’t breaking down, and Mimir was the most powerful mage in the Nine Realms _and_ older than their father, so there must be a spell put in place on the stones against intruders. He meant to tell her that breaking the wall would release the spell. But instead, the blocks of white marble crumbled, cracking the narrow staircase. Hela was suddenly and violently thrown backwards a good hundred feet, like the greatest backflip in all of history, and Loki felt the wrench of the _seidr_ ’s force. The broken chunks of the wall fell on the precarious staircase, which began to crumble into bits as well, falling to the ground two hundred feet below.

Mimir stood in the entrance. He walked carefully past the broken bits of rubble that littered the hole Hela had made and when he reached the hole, he calmly stepped onto the air where the staircase had been. He wore a long blue robe with white silver cuffs that flashed even under the mid-morning light. In his right hand he held a staff etched with runes, many of which Loki didn’t recognize, which also glowed brightly. He had a long white beard, and certainly looked older than Odin, but in Mimir’s case there was no confusing _old_ with _senile._ He was every inch what Loki had imagined. But what scared Loki the most was when the deep sense of _seidr_ , what he had been feeling from the stones, skyrocketed. (Along with his heartbeat). And in that moment Loki was so scared his _seidr_ simply turned him invisible.

The moment Hela was flung backwards, she created a necroblade that extended rapidly towards the ground. It took less than a second for the blade to reach a length of a hundred feet. She used it as a pole to slow her fall and she hit the ground to the right of the tower softly. Hela was up in an instant, shoving black hair out of her face, almost spitting in fury. And it was the moment Loki felt the whole tower tremble from the power of her footfalls when she started to run towards it that he realized how powerful his sister could be.

Mimir, unaware that Loki was clinging to the wall behind him, turned to face Hela. He didn’t seem particularly concerned that someone had stabbed a hole through his wall.

Then in one single jump, Hela cleared all two hundred feet and slammed into Mimir. Loki pressed himself into the wall not a moment too soon; Mimir and Hela went flying past him and slammed into the ground below.

Hela rolled away from Mimir rapidly, slamming a blade in the ground to stop. But as soon as she stood up, Mimir was right in front of her. Instinctively, she ducked, but Mimir wasn’t throwing at her; she found herself a thousand feet above Mimir and falling fast in the very next moment. But instead of splatting on the ground like a bug, she changed position in the air and landed on the ground in a crouch, one hand out in front of her.

Three meters in front of her, Mimir looked down at her, and although she couldn’t remember ever meeting, him, he seemed to know her.

Hela stood up, allowing her green cape to materialize around her shoulders, and then she attacked with a battle cry worthy of the valkyrie.

Mimir held up his staff, and her first two blades simply vanished. He dodged the third, and the rest promptly reversed direction and went spinning back at her. She didn’t break her stride, but waved an arm and the blades disappeared. The moment she got close to Mimir, intending to kick him into his own tower or something, he simply disappeared.

Hela whirled around, sending necroblades flying in all directions. Her gaze swung rapidly from side to side, trying to find the elusive sorcerer. Then she felt the force of _seidr_ around her; enclosing her, and found herself trapped. Mimir appeared right in front of the tower and she bared her teeth at him. She knew this trick. Advanced double bindings were usually drawn with runes, but _seidr_ users often made a replica with their _seidr._ The more energy/force thrown in an effort to break free of the binding, the more powerful they became. The Vanir battle mages thought they were so clever when they used it against her.

Hela clenched her fist, and a necroblade materialized outside of the double binding and flew at Mimir. He barely got out of the way, and his control over the spell slipped. While he was distracted, Hela broke out of the wards, and all of the pent-up energy scattered across the plains.

“Nice try,” she snarled.

Hela and Mimir were both blown backwards by the magical backlash. Hela was up instantly and sent three necroblades flying at him–one slightly to the left, one slightly to the right, and one at his neck. It was a trick Hela pulled all the time on her faster opponents, so that they would be killed even if they dodged. But instead, his staff glowed royal blue and the middle  necroblade simply went right through him.

“Alright,” Mimir said quietly. “I’ve had enough.” And for one stupid moment, Hela thought that meant he was giving up. Then he slammed his staff into the ground.

-oOoOo-

Loki shuffled around the corner to where the staircase had crumbled, hugging the wall with his arms. He peered through the hole in the wall. He could still feel the pulse of _seidr,_ but he wasn’t sure if it was from inside the tower or from the wall. Loki cautiously inched one arm forwards and tried to pass his hand through the hole. Sure enough, it hit something solid but invisible and slid sideways. Not only had Mimir enchanted the physical wall, but he had also put a magical barrier around his tower. Loki reached out again, but this time not with his hand. He felt the magical construct and determined that it was not a blood ward– a magical barrier keyed to the maker’s blood to let only them through–it was just a magical barrier, fed from an energy source from somewhere within the tower. In fact, it should be impossible for Mimir to get in, because he’d built his wards so impenetrable that nothing should be able to penetrate it–nothing but Time and Death itself. Yet somehow, Mimir got in and out, seemingly with ease. Then again, it was said Mimir could go anywhere that normal people could not travel–he could even walk to other realms without the aid of the Bifröst.

Loki thought hard. The only way to get in would be to walk between space itself, and Mimir was said to walk between the realms. Surely he would be capable of moving between space to get inside his own house.

Frigga had only briefly mentioned other dimensions when she had been teaching him. That was something beyond her skillset, and scrying, which Frigga had a natural talent for, and indeed was likely the most adept diviner in the Nine Realms, Loki had little interest in. She’d mainly taught him the basics, and discovered his affinity for fire magic. But one thing she had told him: never journey to other dimensions. Your _seidr_ was built for your own dimension, just like your body was built for you own world; Æsir could not survive on Jotünheim without the proper protection. Other dimensions had other rules, and if you stayed there to long, you would never be able to come back. Like walking on a tightrope; you could swing upside down, but eventually you would start to get dizzy and lose the strength to pull yourself back up.

But if you didn’t need to? If you just needed to…turn sideways, just a little bit? If you took one large lunge across space and snapped back out–like one that moment jumping from rock to rock in a stream? Loki took a deep breath, remembering how Mimir had walked out onto the air. He could do this.

Loki held his arms in front of him and slowly drew the staves for traveling and world-aligning, as well as safety. The green sparks burned in the air like a tear in the fabric of space. Which it was. Quickly, Loki added the runes underneath; these, he knew much better.

Loki tried to calm his racing heart. He could do this. He could one hundred percent do this, if not for himself then for his sister, because she had first tried to break into the home of the greatest sorcerer of the Nine Realms and then apparently challenged him. So he had to help her, somehow, because Loki didn’t really think Mimir cared that she was Odin’s firstborn, and nobody knew where they had gone anyway. And it was his fault that they were here. She was just trying to find him a tutor.

So Loki reached–not with his hands; with his magic–he reached and pushed and _wished_ – And he Walked. All feeling disappeared. The breeze from the plains was gone. Terrified, Loki had shut his eyes, but he could still see everything; the sky, the grass, the marble. And it was beginning to spin and fracture: the seams of the tower splitting open, the sky splintering into prisms. Loki couldn’t even see himself. But he could feel himself moving forwards when he tried to move his foot. His balance wobbled precariously on nothing as his right foot hit open air. He took one more flying leap, hurtling through the marble wall and the magical barrier. Strange shadows clung to the wall, dancing in the wrong direction. Still, it had to be better than being in another dimension entirely. So Loki sucked in a breath and pushed once more.

With a wrench, Loki dropped to the stone floor of Mimir’s tower on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. That hadn’t been so hard, had it?

-OoOoO-

The ground split open. Hela fell into the crevice, taken by surprise, but broke through before it had closed on top of her. She sprang forwards, desperate to hit Mimir on the head before he disappeared, but he wasn’t there anymore, of course. Hela turned around and caught a glimpse of Mimir writing a rune in blazing purple before she became more concerned with the dragon right in front of her. The wyrm was at least fifty feet long with large, dark green scales. Its forked tongue was at least ten feet, and when it roared at her, she saw bone-white fangs that were at least twice her height.

She threw a necroblade, expecting it to disappear like Loki’s nightmare, but instead the necroblade sunk its scales, dark blood pouring from the wound. It screamed, and Hela could tell it was getting ready to breath fire.

Apparently, Mimir had displaced this wyrm from its home in order to distract Hela. She sprung up and landed on the back of the dragon’s head. It tried to twist its snout upwards in order to eat her, but couldn’t twist far enough. She ran up the neck and conjured a necroblade directly into the dragon’s neck. The wyrm screamed in pain again, the awful sound of an animal dying, and collapsed forwards. Hela jumped off the side, and saw Mimir right where she left him, still sketching his rune–or what had Loki called them? Staves? He had mentioned something about staves being more powerful than runes–or something like that, she hadn’t really been listening. For the warriors of Asgard, defeating a wyrm in less than ten seconds was a feat worthy to have ballads written about it. For Hela, it was an annoyance.

Mimir noticed the wyrm dying (it hadn’t exactly been quiet) and this time he summoned a wyvern. Norns, she hated seidmadr so much.   

-oOoOo-

There was nothing in the entire tower. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The room Loki had Walked into had been completely bare; just stone floor and stone walls and another staircase. He’d gone all the way down the staircase, past twenty other identical rooms. Until he got to the very bottom of the tower (or so he assumed; there were no more stairs) and found something very interesting.

In the very center of the room, surrounded by an obsidian wall half a foot wide and two feet tall, was a flame about one and a half feet tall. The flame itself was a pretty typical orange-red color. But it gave off no heat, and cast no shadows. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t bright–it seemed to illuminate the whole room–but the flame itself wasn’t bright, it just cast a lot of light. It was an eternal flame.

Now Loki knew he shouldn’t touch it. Not because fire burned–magical fires didn’t burn you if you simply stuck your hand in it. Eternal flames were exceedingly rare, and there was only one _true_ Eternal Flame, supposedly created by the Norns themselves. All other eternal flames weren’t quite eternal–they could be put out, one way or another, or could die out eventually. And, of course, unlike the Eternal Flame, they couldn’t bring things back to life. _The_ Eternal Flame was in Odin’s vaults, along with the Casket of Ancient Winters and other precious artifacts. But Loki happened to know that the Eternal Flame was the color of an ordinary fire, because eternal flames were always the color that the creator’s magic tended to manifest in (Loki’s was green), and the Eternal Flame wasn’t created the same way. And he had also seen the Eternal Flame when Mother took him and Thor down there on his naming day. That probably helped.

So he _had_ to touch it. He _had_ to.

-oOoOo-

Hela threw her cape off in disgust, twelvish seconds after Mimir had summoned it. The frost breath of the wyvern had frozen its slobber directly on her. Utterly disgusting. She ought to dismember Mimir for putting her through this. In fact, she would. Hela leaped over the wyvern’s dead body in one jump, looking around for Mimir. And there he was, still standing by the tower. He finished and noticed her racing towards him. But instead of disappearing again, he simply raised his war horn up to his mouth and blew three dissonant notes.

And then she was right in front of Mimir. He looked, unfortunately, entirely too much like Odin. The Allfather was more of a warrior, so he kept his beard short. Mimir, on the other hand, had one of those long, flowing beards that Hela had never thought actually existed. But something in his expression reminded her of Odin, and she loathed it with a passion she hadn’t thought she could feel for anyone but…well, Odin. And the worst part? She couldn’t even glare at him.

Hela could feel the power of his _seidr_ swirl around her, and all at once found herself unable to move. Her heart rate, for the first time, began to pick up. This was clearly a binding of some sort, but it was like nothing she had ever seen. She tried to conjure another necroblade, but nothing happened. It was as if he had placed her in a power vacuum.

Silver spirals went up Mimir’s staff when he touched it to the rune. The invisible bindings holding her tightened, and her heartbeat quickened even more, although she hated to admit it, as she struggled to breathe. _Norns._ She was going to murder him. Literally. Not figuratively. Very, very, literally, and gory, and _oh_ _Norns why couldn’t she break free?_

“Hela Odinsdottir,” Mimir said. He was only slightly taller than Hela, but because she was being suspended in his weird binding thing, he had to look up slightly. “Odin’s firstborn. Why in the Norns are _you_ here?”

 _Well, I would answer you, I really would. It’s just that…I can’t._ But he didn’t seem to mind. He reached forwards. Hela hoped her burning hatred she was telepathically communicating to Mimir would deter him, but instead he just tapped her on the forehead with his staff.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured. “Norns, you could have just said so.”

Hela tried to tune him out and focus on all the ways she could kill him. Her eyes stared straight ahead at the tower, where–

Loki was gone. He wasn’t flying down the steps, or clinging on to the crumbling marble steps. Hela thought back. He’d screamed _Hela, NO!_ just a little too late, and then she had slammed into Mimir. Had Loki been there? Her brother might be Jotün by birth, but she had seen them survive hundred-foot falls…at least, the grown ones. And though she wouldn’t admit it, her heart rate picked up.

She was vaguely aware of the swirling _seidr_ and a building pressure inside of her head. Although she had enough rage to keep out a number of seidmadr, she had no actual mental barriers. She had no experience with _seidr;_ a headache wasn’t something she knew how to fight. So Mimir broke in quite easily.  

  And then she was in the battlefield of Muspelheim. A giant salamander, black with glowing orange coils on its skin, was frozen in mid-roar. A valkyrie was suspended in midair roll, poised to slam her sword into the salamander’s neck. Another valkyrie was diving out of the way of the salamander’s fire breath, and a squadron of Asgardian soldiers faced off against a lindwurm that was dripping venom from its two front fangs. Everything was perfectly still and soundless. She could only hear herself breathe; the spell was gone.

Hela heard a crunch of stately footsteps and turned around. There was Mimir, in his pristine robe with his staff in hand.

“I’m not really here, am I?” She asked.

“No,” he replied. “Your mind was so disturbing that I took us to somewhere you found comforting.” He glanced around at the frozen battle scene. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Hela grinned at him, all teeth and no smile. It was more like a snarl. “I haven’t had a good battle in ages.” She tried to lunge at him, but stumbled past him instead. So the cursed spell remained.

“No,” he said simply. “There is no fighting here.”

Hela stood up and glancing opintedly around at the battle around them, eyebrows raised. There were at least nine people dying at that very moment, although to be fair, most were dwarves or their reptilian steeds. “Really?”

Mimir ignored her. “So tell me,” he said. “Why do you care about Loki?”

“I don’t,” she said immediately. “But I can’t have him waking me up in the middle of the night, can I?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking extremely unimpressed. “Very well. Then why is this your worst nightmare?”

All at once, his staff morphed into Gungnir, his beard shortened, and Odin stared back at her, frowning. The battle field disappeared and replaced itself with Odin’s throne room. There he was, sitting in his golden throne. Frigga sat on his left, calmly staring at Hela as if she _didn’t care,_ and there, in Hela’s seat, sat Thor and Loki, each on an armrest, laughing and swinging their legs and not even noticing her. Sometimes, Hela wondered if Odin put in the steps just so that he could be taller than her; they were, after all, exactly the same height.

“You are an disappointment to Asgard,” Odin intoned.

“I’m not scared of him, old man!” Hela shouted, trying to summon a necroblade. “You didn’t even get it right–there’s a giant mural on the ceiling, with Odin standing in all his glory and garden parties with the Jotüns–”

Abruptly, her vision began to funnel and she felt a squeezing sensation. Her chest constricted, and she clawed at her throat while the scene disappeared. Suddenly, they were back in the plains of Vanaheim, with the foot-high grasses and Mimir’s marble tower rising two hundred feet to her right. Hela could feel wind on her skin again and the grass as she dropped to the ground. She clenched her teeth and hurled a necroblade, but there was a flash of purple light and she was frozen again. She levitated in the air, surrounded by pure _seidr_ power _._ Mimir’s stave glittered around her like a sparkly purple fishnet.

“I never said you were scared,” Mimir said, side-stepping her necroblade. “But you certainly seem to think so.”

Hela snarl at him, but once again she couldn’t even glare. Well. If her rage disturbed him so much, perhaps she could simply rage him out of her mind. So Hela endeavored to call up all the moments that had caused her so much pain and anger that she had never satisfied, and in doing so accidentally brought up the worst memories of her life for Mimir to see. She began to thrash weakly and vented her rage on Mimir’s stupid magical fish net. _No one_ was allowed to beat her. Not Odin, Not Brunnhilde, not dragons, and not Mimir the Wise.

Mimir raised his war horn up to his mouth again, and Hela wanted to scream in fury–

-oOoOo-

Loki touched the eternal flame.

-OoOoO-

A shockwave rippled out through the ground from Mimir’s tower. He stumbled and his first note fell flat, loosening his control. Both turned to look at the cause of the commotion.

 _Loki,_ Hela thought. _Clever boy._

Unfortunately, Mimir was currently in her mind. He frowned and inspected his wards, but they appeared to be intact. But the steps all the way at the top where Hela had broken a couple off began to crumble. The entire marble structure shuddered. Mimir turned away from Hela and lowered his war horn when cracks raced up the stones.

A brilliant orange-red light burst from the conical roof. It leapt like a fire, but it was clearly not a real one. It focused into beam-like lights that flared from the tip of the roof like searchlights to the left and right of where Mimir and Hela were standing. A meter-wide crack ran up either side. Mimir played the same three notes on his horn again and his stave brightened, compressing around Hela. He strode towards his tower, hands tracing another rune in the air.

Then his tower split open like an egg. The stones crumbled outwards in a cascade. The conical top, made of the same white marble, split in half and fell to either side. The left side hit the small, circular building, instantly crushing the roof. For a moment, a loud hissing noise issued from the purple smoke.

Then it exploded in a cloud of purple smog.

Mimir dropped his war horn in shock and let out a string of muttered curses that Hela thought was rather impressive, not that she would ever admit it. Not one to waste a moment, she seized his loss of control to break through his stupid sparkly purple fishnet. Mimir didn’t even notice. Stones flying upwards hit the marble falling down and shot sideways. A massive whomph sound rose from thudding stones. The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Finally, even the ground level stones of the tower slid off the one underneath and fell, leaving a pile of meter-high stones covering over a hundred square meters. The purple smoke billowed out like a fog across the plains. Mimir was frantically trying to stop some of the damage, but he spent at least fifteen seconds just clearing away the purple smog.

Then the orange-red light coalesced, until it was just a magical flame that couldn’t be more than two feet high, in the hands of Loki, who looked remarkably undamanged. His shoulder-length black hair floated unnaturally and he stared, transfixed, at the flame. Slowly, he lifted his head and turned to see Hela and Mimir.

Loki stared at them.

Hela and Mimir stared back.

“Oops,” Loki said guiltily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I've been advised to explain some of the terms in this chapter. Just as a warning, they're rather loose, so here goes:
> 
> völva: describes a female magic-user. I think the stereotype is the old, knowledgable crone who goes around disrespecting the crown "because I saw your grandfather in nappies" or something like that. Frigga and Freyja both fit the description, however.
> 
> Seidmadr: male magic-user
> 
> Seidkona: female magic-user. Völva are basically the shamans and seers who emerge every century or something, and seidkona/seidmadr work where ever, just casually using magic.
> 
> Seidr: Norse magic. Like every book as their own definition for magic (/magyk if they're trying to sound cool), so seidr is what the Norse called magic. There isn't really a good definition from there. It's sort of learnable, but some people 'have' it and some people don't.
> 
> For the creatures I mentioned, see here: https://i.imgur.com/5Y6nHUG.png
> 
> If there are any other terms you didn't recognize, feel free to ask.
> 
> Also, please leave a review! They are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Cheers,  
> antebunny  
> :)


	3. Tutor (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the Midgardian year 980 A.D. (approximately).

**For Better (Or For Worse)**

* * *

**Tutor Part II**

 

_“Oops,” Loki said guiltily._

Hela and Mimir shared a scarily similar look. Hela really couldn’t say what exactly they were thinking in that moment, but she definitely felt more proud than Mimir did, and more than she should.

“Well,” Mimir conceded, “I can see why you think he needs a tutor.”

With a sharp twist to her stomach, they were standing in the ruins of Mimir’s palace. Hela absolutely did not stumble (but she did come close. Seidmadr were the worst). The obsidian wall that had once held the flame remained, a short little stub on the white marble dust and ash ruins surrounding them for a hundred meters. Hela summoned a necroblade, but this time Loki was in the way. He faced Mimir guiltily and held the flame close to his chest.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, didn’t mean to.”

Mimir raised an eyebrow and extended his left hand. “Your apology is noted. Now, please, give it back.”

Loki gave a sorrowful look to the eternal flame in his hands and then turned to look guiltily at Hela, whose expression (pure rage and fury) softened. Just a little. Not that she would admit to it. “But…”

“I will attempt to forgive you for the destruction of my home,” Mimir offered.

“No, I meant…” Loki looked down, drawing the Flame into himself. “You were battling Hela,” he muttered, unable to express his worries.

“And I wasn’t going to lose,” Hela butted in. “However, given that I think should I attempt to stab him again you will find a way to destroy this entire plain, including myself, with the Eternal Flame because there is a _reason Odin keeps it in his vault,_ I will refrain from doing so.” Truly, it was a major concession on her part. It wasn’t, of course, _the_ Eternal Flame, because Odin did keep it in his vault, but it was _an_ Eternal Flame.

Mimir simply raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have knocked.”

“Perhaps there should have been a knocker.” Hela thought for a second. “Or a door.”

“There is a reason I didn’t have a door.”

“I know,” Hela bit out sourly.

“You could have arranged a meeting.”

“I know.”

“Or announced your presence on this realm.”

“I know. Still don’t care,” Hela muttered, obviously not caring how immature she sounded. Those who dared call her immature had been stabbed long ago (it was in the heat of battle anyway, nobody could blame her if she missed just a couple times).

Mimir sighed. “However, I concede that your brother is in dire need of a tutor, lest he be a danger to himself and those around him, and I am perhaps the most suited to teach him.”

Loki winced again, and the Eternal Flame flared. Both Mimir and Hela flinched back, which meant that Mimir raised his staff and Hela materialized two meter-long necroblades in each hand–Norns she missed Fenris. Next time she wasn’t leaving him behind. (Not that there would be a next time). She did it out of instinct, really, because the only two things to stab were Loki and the Eternal Flame, one of which had no effect, and the other she wouldn’t stab.

“Loki,” Hela said, her voice strained, “please. Return the Eternal Flame.” There were many things Hela knew herself to be capable of dealing with, but that list did not include rescuing herself and her brother from the might of an Eternal Flame. Even if it wasn’t _the_ Eternal Flame. Also, why had Mimir kept an Eternal Flame in a place that was so easy to steal from? It really shouldn’t be her problem, but it was just like a seidmadr to _make_ it her problem. He teleported her here. Honestly.

Slowly, Loki withdrew the Flame and gently placed it inside the obsidian wall. It flickered once more and settled. Hela and Mimir let inscrutable sighs of relief, and Loki scampered over to Hela, peeking out at Mimir and putting on a brave face. The seidmadr stared at the two siblings with an impassive expression. For a long moment, all three simply stood there. Yes, Hela was still enraged (and humiliated) enough to behead him, but he could hardly teach Loki if he was dead.

And she maybe wasn’t willing to continue their battle. Not until she knew how to win. For certain. Stupid seidmadr. Also, she wanted her cloak back.

“Where’s the king and queen?” Mimir asked finally.

“In Asgard,” Hela said.

“I see,” Mimir said, as if he did. That somehow, from those two words, he knew exactly how Odin felt about getting Loki a tutor, in addition to the tutors he already had (and the respect he’d paid them), and Frigga’s own attempt at tutoring. As if he knew that Hela had needed to get out of Asgard, to see something besides eye-achingly gold courtiers and servants. As if he knew that Hela was trying to be an older sister, trying to do something that Odin and Frigga couldn’t–or wouldn’t.

As if.

“I will tutor him,” Mimir said to Hela, “but not for money or gifts. I only require a promise from you.”

“No,” Hela said promptly.

“ _Hela!”_ Loki cried, scandalized.

She looked down at him, realizing that she just ruined his chance at tutelage under Mimir. Her pride twisted at the thought of backing down, and she wasn’t sure if she could do it, even if it was for Loki. She could train him to be a warrior herself, or find another tutor. She’d simply figured that Mimir would be the best.

Loki drew in a breath, as if to steady himself. “Perhaps having a tutor is not necessary–”

“Young one,” Mimir cut in plainly, “you just attempted to walk between realms without any prior experience. You could have ripped a hole in reality and destroyed the entire universe.”

“I wasn’t _walking_ between the realms,” Loki muttered. “I just…took a step.”

Hela gritted her teeth and resigned herself. “Maybe,” she said. “Depends. What would the promise be?”

“This,” Mimir said, and didn’t wait for permission. All at once something bright and possibly purple flashed across her vision. Hela reached for Loki, but suddenly Loki wasn’t there. In fact, nothing was there. She was nowhere. Norns, she hated this seidmadr so much. If Loki learned to do this he could…

But she cut the thought off, because if Loki wasn’t going to be a warrior then it was just as well that he could wield _seidr_ to defend himself.

She felt Mimir–or rather, the essence of him, something ancient and powerful, bearing down on her mind. His _seidr_ flowed like a flood over plains, sinking into the soil. Something tightened.

 _What is this,_ Hela demanded, even though she had no way of fighting it.

And then it was over.   

The _seidr_ settled over her mind like a heavy blanket one moment, and the next moment, she couldn’t feel it anymore. Hela knew logically that it still had to be there, but for all she could tell, it was gone. The ruins of Mimir’s tower blinked back into existence, and she found Loki staring at her worriedly. Mimir lowered his staff impassively, and Hela relaxed her grip on her necroblades.

“It is done,” Mimir intoned.

 _You didn’t ask,_ Hela wanted to say, but that would imply that he did anyway, that Hela didn’t manage to stop him. And that wasn’t something she wanted Loki to know. “Fine,” she bit out, because she had totally agreed to it. And no, she wasn’t going to ask _what it was,_ did she look like a ignorant peasant? “Good. I’m glad.”

(Possibly).

Loki withdrew from behind her. “Lord Mimir,” he began carefully.

“Good Norns,” the seidmadr interrupted, “call me Mimir. Please. I’m no lord.”

“Oh,” Loki said, and tried not to wince. “Right. Mimir.” He looked like he’d much rather say ‘His Awesome Awesomeness, Tutor of Tutors, Knower of Cool Magic Stuff, Mimir the Wise.’ Hela felt only a little jealous.

“Arrange to meet here in a fortnight’s time,” Mimir said, “I don’t care how you do it. Now,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and glancing back at the ruins of his tower like he couldn’t believe what had just happened, “please. Leave.”

Hela spun around, grabbing Loki’s hand. “Heimdall!” She called. “Open the Bifröst!”

“Goodbye,” Loki blurted at Mimir, before his sister could eschew all standards of decency, which was rather ironic, considering that Hela and Mimir had met when she tackled him two hundred feet from his own balcony (although admittedly he hadn’t been standing on it). “I’m sorry–”

In a rush of rainbow light, they were gone.

 

-oOoOo-

 

The two siblings walked up the large palace steps towards the main entrance. Hela would think it looked pretty if it wasn’t so annoyingly golden. The whole thing glittered in the sun’s light like an oversized, fancy double-reed. It could fit the entire population of Asgard if need be, as it was, in fact, built for that exact purpose. Each tower was structured to fall outwards, thereby crushing the (an) enemy while leaving the inhabitants safe. Of course, the Bifröst was rather undefended, but you couldn’t use it without the Guardian, and Heimdall would never betray Asgard, willingly or unwillingly. (He was loyal to Asgard rather than the throne, Hela noted. She’d give him that. Although he wasn’t a great warrior). Plus, Odin had his own _seidr_ that was ‘steeped from the core of Asgard’ or whatever. It belonged to the throne, Hela knew, but that was about all she knew.

The main doors were rather frequently used, given the sheer number of facilities inside that were needed on a daily basis. Hela wondered if that was Odin’s way of controlling power. It’s not like he needed to, anyway. Still, nobody glanced twice at Loki and Hela; they had stayed inside the palace for long enough that most people didn’t actually know what they looked like. Of course, the palace guards did, and they were let in without a word, just a simple nod of deference.

“Father didn’t notice, did he?” Loki asked.

“Why would you care if he did? Do you need his permission?”

“Yes,” Loki said immediately. “I thought you already had his approval.”

“I didn’t,” Hela answers cheerfully, as if Loki hadn’t figured that out already. “Do you need Mother’s permission?”

“No? Yes? I,” Loki falters. “I thought she would approve, but Father didn’t think it was necessary–”

“Well, _I_ approve,” Hela said. “And I am an _adult.” Keep trying to convince yourself, Hela._ Oh, shut up. I’m over fifteen hundred years old. Therefore, I’m an adult.

Loki looked supremely unconvinced.

“Relax,” Hela sighed. “He didn’t notice.” _Because he doesn’t care enough,_ she thought, but did not say. Odin might not care about her,  but he had also kidnapped Loki from his birth family. Loki, the son of Laufey, who took out his eye. Everything Odin did was for an ulterior motive, even if Hela didn’t know what it was for. But Loki didn’t know of his origins (she still felt a little twinge of guilt, but Loki had grown up side by side with Thor. He was far more Asgardian than he was Jotün, and honestly she found herself forgetting sometimes that he wasn’t actually related to her). And even if Odin didn’t care? Well. Loki didn’t deserve to know that. Not at this age.  

Once they were inside, Loki looked up inquisitively at Hela.

“I’m going to the tailors,” Hela said, maybe just a little defensively. “I need to replace my cloak. You’re welcome to come if you like.”

Loki wrinkled his nose. “No thanks. I think I’ll go find Thor.”

 _Well,_ Hela thought, watching him run off, eager to tell Thor about his new tutor, _that’s that._ She didn’t feel the same without her cloak, and Fenris needed a grooming. Sigrid was due back today, and she and Isa were to meet Hela in her rooms by the fifth hour. The tailor should be done by the ninth hour, and Hela also had to inspect the winged horses. Well. She didn’t have to, she just wanted to, because she’d been putting it off, and animals tended to like her more than humans. She had things to do, and Loki had fun to have.

Hela turned and headed left, away from the executive corridors of the palace and to where the palace workers were.

 

-OoOoO-

 

Loki rushed down the corridors–it was easier than he thought to get lost in the palace. Mother had taken him and Thor out for shopping trips, but they both hated shopping, and they’d once gone to vacation to visit Mother’s family on Vanaheim. He wondered if he missed something thing, after what his sister had told him. He and Thor had spent most of the time playing by the numerous waterfalls and at the market. They were treated less like royalty, where people were less likely to recognize them. And at night, the market was covered with floating, multi colored lanterns and candles, and all sorts of foreign and exotic scents rose from the darkness. That’s what he and Thor remembered from Vanaheim, although in retrospect Mother had only let them run around so much so she could have some time alone.

All in all, Loki had only left the palace a few times. He spent most of his time in his rooms or in the courtyards with Thor. He knew the way to the dining hall, the library, and the training grounds, but that was about it. Of course, there was no way he would have told Hela that he maybe didn’t know his way back, so he ended up asking a gardener where he once Loki realized that there were, in fact, courtyards that he hadn’t been in before.

Fifteen minutes later, Loki found Thor in his rooms.

“I’m back,” he said unnecessarily.

Thor turned, smiled widely, and bounded up to grab Loki in a bear hug. At least he didn't mind the fact that his hands were still smeared with ash. Loki suspected that, given his luck, Thor would eventually be able to actually squeeze the life out of him, instead of just annoyingly tight hugs. Still, after a week of knowing how cold his sister was, Thor’s bear hugs might be preferable. (He never thought he’d say that). 

“Brother!” Thor exclaimed, and Loki rescinded his previous statement. Also, he felt winded. The past half and hour had been a blur, especially the part with all the light. He'd held the Eternal Flame, and then there'd been a lot of–magic. Power. Both. And then Hela and Mimir were standing in front of him, because Mimir's tower had been destroyed, and he understood vaguely that it was his fault. Loki felt like he was coming off an adrenaline high.

“Where have you been?”

“Hela found me a _seidr_ tutor,” Loki said. "He's  _Mimir the Wise."_  Then he realized that Thor might be jealous that their older sister–the warrior, no less–was spending so much more time with Loki. 

Thor’s smile seemed a little fake. “Ah…that’s very…good.”

“You’re not…” Loki began, but then thought maybe he shouldn’t accuse Thor of being jealous if he didn’t know for sure. “You know…um…jealous?” Well, cat’s out of the bag now.

Thor’s brow wrinkled. “Brother, I shall leave the _seidr_ to you. And…I don’t know who Mimir the Wise is.”

“You don’t know,” Loki repeated, shocked. He recalled the ancient staves Mimir had scripted in the air like they were simple line drawings. He remembered the feeling of that single step that felt like he’d walked the world (which, whoops, he wasn’t supposed to do). He had, in a way. And of course, the echo of the Eternal Flame would never leave him–there was no way to _forget_ that kind of eternity. All that, from fifteen minutes.

“No?” Thor said, looking just a little guilty. “Should I?”

“The greatest _seidmadr_ in all the Nine Realms,” Loki said solemnly. And then he added, in a moment of–ambition, foreshadowing, impulsiveness, daydreaming, all of the above, he wasn’t quite sure:

_“But one day, when I’m grown…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't a lot of content, I'm afraid, but I made the decision to substitute content in order to post sooner. Although I'm waiting for Captain Marvel and Avengers: Endgame to come out in order to write my ending (um, spoilers, this doesn't end by the events of the Avengers. I have a plot).
> 
> By the way, can I just mention the toxic comments about Captain Marvel? One of them is "Warning: pseudointellectual neckbeards pretending to be professional film critics below." But the comment right underneath it is "Does she have a green period too?" and OMFG I'm so pissed off by this. They're all "She's too EmOtiONlEsS" or they're like "well Brie Larson just isn't the right actress" and I am so. Done. 
> 
> Ok I'm done!  
> :)


	4. Tutor Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter had a lot of talking, and structure-wise I guess is similar to the last one. Sorry about that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

**For Better (Or For Worse)**

* * *

 

**Tutor Part III**

 

What stood before Loki and Hela looked like someone had thought building a castle in two weeks seemed like a bright idea for a couple of days before giving up with two solitary towers built. Which was, in retrospect, more or less what had happened. The someone in question, while not a mason or craftsman particularly skilled in building, had lived long enough to pick up the basics. The fields of Vanaheim had been cleared of the destroyed tower and accompanying marble dust, although flattened spots littered the surrounding area. The remaining marble structures had been reassembled into two shorter, wider towers connected by a bridge at the top. They stuck up like a sore thumb from the vast plains. There were no windows, stairs, doors, or any discernible entrance.

Loki shifted behind Hela slightly, wrapping his green cloak over his front. Now that he was back here, he was doubting the validity of his apprenticeship won by virtue of his accidental destructiveness.

“Oh, come on,” Hela said, a little annoyed. She pried his cloak from his fingers and let it flutter behind him in the valley wind. “You wanted this. And now you got it. What’s there to be scared about?”

“He beat you in a fight,” Loki muttered traitorously.

“He did _not,”_ Hela retorted. “I acquiesced. To get you your lessons, if I recall.”

He didn’t recall it that way. “Okay, fine,” Loki said. “So how’re you going to knock this time?”

 _I didn’t knock last time,_ Hela thought mulishly. “I won’t. I expect I’ll wait and he’ll pop out.”

Loki gave her a sideways look. Did she really except Mimir to pop out of thin air?

Right as he was about to voice this thought, the air in front of them rippled and turned purple at the edges. Mimir the Wise stepped out, and the void crackled with energy. He wore a slate gray robe and his white beard looked freshly combed. Beards tended to be a sign of wisdom; the longer the beard, the more knowledgeable the person (typically seidmadr, because warriors had to keep theirs short). Mimir’s was a good two feet long. Odin would totally be jealous, if he wasn’t a warrior.

“Told you,” Hela muttered (was she arguing with her eight-year-old brother? yes). She tried to straighten up (she wasn’t even short, but everyone on Asgard managed to make her feel that way)

Mimir surveyed the two of them. She noticed that Loki made an effort to stand up and come out of her shadow. Hela was pleased to find that she and Mimir were more or less the same height. He directed his intense gaze on Hela. “Four hours?”

“I don’t think he has the concentration span,” Hela said.

“Yes,” Loki said at the same time, and pouted just a little when he realized what she said. “I do to,” he protested, “ask Mother!”

Hela’s lips twitched. “Alright. Fours hours.” She nodded once, sharply, to Mimir, and spun around. “HEIMDALL!” Hela shouted. “Open the Bifröst!”

The rainbow path descended from the skies of Vanaheim. Loki stumbled backwards, shielding his eyes from the bright rainbow light. When he looked up, the symbol of the Bifröst was scorched into the ground and his sister was gone.

“Well,” Mimir said, sounding a little amused by his sister’s antics, “come along, then.” He reached for Loki’s hand, who gave it to him, nervously. He felt the flare of Mimir’s _seidr_ and a gut-wrenching pull. For a second he couldn’t see and the world felt _wrongwrongweirdwrong_ and then a moment later he was stumbling onto the floor of the room at the top of the second tower. Loki wheezed heavily, taking a moment to enjoy being able to breathe.

“You took that better than I thought you would,” Mimir noted as Loki straightened up. The room was remarkably bare. The walls were bare, the floors were bare; the only object in the room was the torch on the wall, filling the room with smoke, and the doorway that led to the bridge.

Loki forced himself to calm down. He’d spent all of yesterday stressing out, and this morning woke up just shortly after the sun. He had snuck down to the kitchens to have an early breakfast and then find Hela, only for her to remind him that Mimir had said _at the same time a fortnight from now,_ which was not for several more hours. He’d wanted to dress well, but not come off as pretentious, and went to Mother for advice when Hela got fed up with him.

He had no idea what to expect.

“You destroyed everything,” Mimir said sourly, noticing his surprise at the empty room. Loki stirred guiltily again, not sure if to face Mimir or not. “But then, I suppose it was about time,” Mimir sighed. “I was growing complacent; I haven’t been attacked in milenia. And of course, if you weren’t the way you were I wouldn’t have agreed to teach you, so there’s that. Come,” he said again, and led Loki across the bridge.

The top room in the other tower had a few items inside of it. A stack of books lay in the corner, haphazardly placed, a simple table with a few mixing bowls, and off to the right side of the room were several jars with what looked like alchemy ingredients. It wasn’t much, but it was the most _magic_ Loki had ever seen in one room. (Mother kept only a single scrying basin, albeit a very cool one, in a locked cabinet in her rooms).

“Now,” Mimir said, conjuring two comfy chairs with a wave of his hand, “what has Frigga taught you about _seidr_?” He settled himself comfortably on one side of the table, and Loki took the invitation to sit in the other, his legs swinging nervously.

“Only the basics,” Loki said modestly. He didn’t know where what Mother had taught him fell, but it was better to relearn what he already knew than to go in over his head and look like a fool. “Ehm,” he faltered, when Mimir seemed to expect more, “she taught me how to access my _seidr_ and a few spells. Healing spells, mostly, although she says I have an affinity for fire.” Loki looked happy at the thought. “And she taught me the concepts of, er, other things as well,” he added as an afterthought. “She took me to her gardens and explained the different uses of the plants, but she said she didn’t want me experimenting with alchemy on my own and she didn’t know any…enough.”

“I see,” Mimir said, pushing the mixing bowls to one side and bringing out a single, blank sheet of parchment. “So, if I were to say, ‘the phoenix and the flame’…?”

“Like a circle, have no beginning!” Loki completed quickly, delighted to know the answer.

“And what does it mean?” Mimir asked.

Loki faltered slightly before gathering his thoughts. “Ah–well, that _seidr_ is to a seidkona–or seidmadr–what breathing is to a regular person. It is an innate part of a person that cannot be removed, although it can be blocked…or gifted. I think.” He made a conscious effort to stop his legs from swinging.

“ _Seidr_ is in everything,” Mimir corrected gently. “Not just those who can wield it. Every realm has its own innate _seidr,_ you could say. That’s what gives your siblings their abilities although they have no _seidr_ of their own.” He had a pen in his hand by then, poised over the parchment, when he saw Loki’s frown. “ _Seidr_ is tied very strongly to a person’s sense of identity,” he explained. “That’s why a shapeshifter, such as yourself, must work harder to master your _seidr_ but once you have, there are many more possibilities.”

“Mother mentioned that,” Loki jumped in excitedly. “She said scrying was her speciality, which was why she couldn’t teach me about runic magic or alchemy or astrology or–or–” or anything else that he asked about, “erm, yeah,” he finished lamely. “She said that.”

Mimir raised a single eyebrow. “I see,” he said again. “Did she mention _Ásgarðrfróðleikr?”_

Loki’s smile faltered, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Erm…no.”

“She must have,” Mimir insisted, “after all, your father gets his _seidr_ from there.”

“Do you mean the Odinforce?” Loki asked, watching as Mimir began to sketch something out on the parchment.

He looked a little surprised, and paused halfway through drawing a circle. “He named it after himself?” Mimir snorted and turned the paper sideways. “Yes, the Odinforce. More precisely, the magic of Asgard, and what you might consider vassal magic of the other eight realms, all placed on one person.” Mimir turned the paper again and continued sketching. “Given that he was a warrior prince with no experience with _seidr,_ he did remarkably well.”

It was funny to hear people speak of Father when he was young. Loki couldn’t imagine a time when he wasn’t exactly how he was right now. He leaned forward slightly to get a better look.

“That magic is why your siblings can do the things they can,” Mimir finished. He twirled his fingers, and the pen vanished. “By…the Odinforce,” he said dryly, “passed down from your father. And your mother is a seidkona in her own right, although she chooses not to use her ability that often.”

“What _can_ my siblings do?” Loki asked. “Sometimes Thor–well, sparkles a little, when he’s upset, and Hela–” Loki stopped and considered what Hela could actually _do._ “She conjures blades. But that’s all I’ve ever seen them do.”

“I don’t think either of your siblings know what they’re truly capable of,” Mimir said. “Because they are not _seidr_ -wielders, what they can do isn’t magic, in a sense.” He considered his words for a second, turning the paper around so it faced Loki. “It is a part of them, yes, but–I suppose it’s more like shapeshifting.”

“It takes practice, but it comes naturally?” Loki suggested, based on his own experiences with shapeshifting.

“It is theorized,” Mimir agreed, “I have no experience of my own with the _Ásgarðrfróðleikr_ myself, nor was I born a shapeshifter, and there are few records left by either for me to say with certainty.”

“Then what can I do?” Loki asked. “Shapeshift?”

“I believe we’ll have to explore your affinity with fire,” Mimir said, and watched as Loki tried to hide a wicked little grin.

Loki’s grin faded. “Mimir?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes?”

He gathered up his courage and sat up straight. “What promise did you ask of Hela?”

Mimir leaned back and ran his fingers through his beard. Loki didn’t know that people actually stroked their beards. It looked a little weird. “She didn't tell you?” he asked rhetorically. When Loki shook his head, he sighed. “That’s something she’ll have to you,” he said. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Oh.” Loki looked down, disappointed.

Mimir sighed. “I won’t lie to you, Loki, you have the potential to be a very powerful mage. “But,” he warned, “until you master your control over your _seidr_ it will be more likely to be a danger to yourself and others, rather than an asset.” Mimir sighed. “I don’t say this to scare you, young one; rather I would encourage your curiosity, but it is always prudent to exercise caution, especially in your case.”

Loki wilted a little. “So Mother was right to tell me not try experimenting with alchemy on my own?” He had been planning on it.

“Oh yes,” Mimir said, “but we will get to it, so you shouldn’t worry.” He tapped the paper that Loki had been watching. “I meant to introduce you to runic magic first; out of all the arts you could chose it is by far the safest. Which is not to say that it is safe, but in its basic form it is safer than the others. You said Frigga taught you how to draw upon your _seidr_?”

“Yes,” Loki confirmed distractedly, watching the paper in case it did anything interesting. It looked like a rune, and Loki remembered the stave Mimir had drawn during his fight with Hela. Was it like this?

“Did she teach you about overextending?”

“Yes,” Loki said again. He’d done a little research about runes by himself in the palace’s great library, but the books he’d found were more on the different forms, rather than how they worked.

“Loki,” Mimir said, a little sharply, and Loki’s head snapped up. He looked a little sheepish. “What did she teach you about overextending?”

“That like any physical practice, there is a difference between tiredness and exhaustion,” Loki answered dutifully. To be honest, he felt rather exhausted after cohort training, so he didn’t see what the difference was. “And if I begin to feel fatigued, I should stop.” He looked even more doubtful at his last sentence.

Mimir held another sigh back. “Please, refrain from causing yourself harm. Your mother would have my head.”

Loki’s lips twitched at that. “I already promised her,” he said.

“Very well,” Mimir said. He reached across the table and with a single finger traced the rune he had drawn on the paper. It left a trail of blazing sparks behind it, like what he had done during his fight with Hela. “Has your mother taught you how to do this?”

Loki shook his head mutely, eyes glued to the manifestation of Mimir’s _seidr._

“It’s just drawing upon your _seidr_ ,” Mimir said. “At a basic level. S…” he trailed off when Loki continued looking uncomprehendingly from the paper to Mimir. “You understand, I have never had a student before. I–” he was cut off again when Loki raised his hand.

Loki slowly placed his finger an inch above the paper. Before when he had reached for his _seidr_ he’d never tried let out a small but constant stream. For spells, it was more like you picked up a scoop and put it in a spell. But he could totally do this. He didn’t come all this way just to disappoint Mimir. After all, he’d found a way to walk between realms without really know how, hadn’t he? _No doing that again,_ he reminded himself. _At least not yet._ So he reached. His control wobbled for a moment, like a baby bird falling out of its nest, and Mimir hurriedly banished the traces of his own _seidr_ from the parchment. He didn’t want to attempt to mix their _seidr_ …not for several centuries. Loki focused on his pointer finger and slowly, a green spark fizzled to life beside his pointer finger.

He drew his finger across the air above the rune slowly, and a trail of green sparks followed his finger, blazing in the air like electricity on a wire.

“Keep it steady,” Mimir murmured, watching Loki’s progress intently. Loki struggled to do so, but just as he was going to finish tracing the rune, the first green sparks he’d traced began to fizzle out. Instead of hovering in the air, they fell on the paper with a hiss, singeing the parchment.

“It was a good first attempt,” Mimir said, “but–” he broke off as Loki’s frown grew deeper and he went back to the beginning. “Don’t overextend,” he warned.

Loki traced a little faster this time, drawing a little more _seidr_ than he intended to in his haste. His circle was less than perfect this time, but it was still pretty close. He began to catch up to his first attempt, the second round of sparks blazing a brighter green.

“Lean back,” Mimir commanded abruptly, and Loki reacted instinctively just as he was finishing up. He was just in time, too, because no sooner did his face stop leaning over the parchment than the rune–Loki’s rune, that is, not the one drawn on the paper–turned from sparks to a half-foot tall green fire.

 _Woosh,_ went the flames and with a crackle, the parchment burst into normal, red fire. Loki stared at it for a second, awestruck. Then Mimir waved his right hand over the table and both the fire and the parchment vanished.

“It seems you do have an affinity for fire,” Mimir acknowledged.

Loki looked up at him, green eyes dancing with delight. “That was… _amazing_ ,” he breathed, a grin dancing on his face. “Can I try that again?”

 

-oOoOo-

 

When Loki and Mimir finally left the tower, one minute over four hours later, Hela was pacing back and forth in front of it. She was very fond of punctuality and after being kept waiting for a _full sixty seconds_ she was considering the merits of trying to break into the tower again.

Loki focused on her instantly, and bounded over to her with an ecstatic grin on his face. Hela focused on him with more intensity and less smiling. “Hela!” he cried, and attempted to give her a hug that she neatly sidestepped, but he was too happy to notice (although Mimir did). He settled for bouncing slightly by her side, giving happy vibes. She shuddered, a little, but he still didn’t notice, thankfully enough. Still. _Happiness. For children,_ she decided, _but Loki was one, so it was alright._

Loki almost started babbling about all that he’d learned to Hela before realizing that he hadn’t said goodbye to Mimir.

“Next week, at the same time?” Mimir inquired. Hela nodded at him, placing one hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“Goodbye,” Loki said hastily, before Hela could decide to leave. “I am very grateful for–”

“HEIMDALL!” Hela called. “OPEN THE BIFRÖST!”

Loki winced at her volume, and before he could finish his sentence, they were gone.

“He’s going to teach me alchemy,” Loki said excitedly as they made their way back to the Asgard’s palace, first on a skiff, then by foot. “Not for some time, he said, first he’s going to teach me runic magic, and then alchemy, and he already taught me a few _spells_ –”

Hela had tuned her brother out after a few sentences, after making sure he was okay. Not that she mistrusted Mimir, it was just that…she didn’t trust him.

“– _seidr_ is tied to the wielder’s sense of identity, but you and Thor still have _some_ thing, he said it’s not exactly magic, like what I have–”

Some part of Hela’s brain registered what he said and she bent to look down at him. “What?”

Loki looked up, pleased that she was paying attention. “About the identity? Mimir said it’d be harder for me to control my _seidr_ because I’m a shapeshifter. He said if something major happens to shake the seidmadr’s sense of identity they can go a little crazy, that’s why it changes as you grow older.”

His sister peered down at him as if he’d said something worrying. “What do you mean by ‘a little crazy’?”

“Seidmadr have been known to go insane,” Loki said, eager to share his knowledge. He didn’t know why his sister was interested in this in particular, but he didn’t really care. They got off the skiff by the steps of the golden palace and the guards tried to stop them before recognizing the royal siblings. Loki reached for her hand instinctively as her longer legs carried her faster up the steps.

“So, for example, if a seidmadr found out he was adopted and his birth parents were of a different realm, would that be bad?” Hela asked.

“Yes,” Loki answered. He picked up his pace; just slightly running, in order to keep up with his sister. “Of course. Although I don’t know why they wouldn’t know their birth parents…”

“Just hypothetically,” his sister dismissed, and Loki shrugged mentally. At the age of eight, he wasn’t exactly looking for subtext and double meanings behind his sister’s words. He was more eager to impress her.

“Well, then, yes,” he said. “I mean, _I_ wouldn’t know what it’d be like, but especially if the seidmadr already had a firm sense of identity…that could be very bad for them.”

Hela was quiet for a long moment, and Loki looked up at her, trying to tell what she was thinking. She still strode ahead of him, facing the great golden halls that rose ahead of them. It was past lunchtime by now, so his parents had for sure noticed that he was missing. He’d neglected to mention it to Mother, just in case she didn’t think it was a good idea, even though she’d supported him earlier. Loki was worried about what Father would think, too. He wondered how Hela had explained his absence, or if she even had.

As they reached the top of the steps, Hela let go of his hand. She glanced down at it, looking surprised to find herself being familiar with anyone. The guards tipped their helmets at the two siblings as they passed, taking a hand off their spears in order to do so. Loki scrambled to keep up with his sister’s long strides. Had he said something wrong? He thought they’d been having a conversation, but maybe she decided it wasn’t interesting enough? It was at times like this when Loki wished Thor could be here too, because he could strike up a conversation with anybody and wouldn’t notice if they didn’t want to talk to him anyway. Hela felt a little private, like the big sister only Loki got to have, although he knew that was stupid. Thor was just as much her brother than he was.

“Oh,” Hela said finally, still not looking at Loki, and didn’t say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMM I WONDER WHAT HELA WAS THINKING. IT'S TOO BAD I DIDN'T WRITE THAT FROM HER PERSPECTIVE
> 
> ;)
> 
> Up next: Thor and valkyrie!  
> Let me know your thoughts, and get some sleep (I know I don't).


End file.
